


The light is no mystery

by bellapendragon



Series: RCU (Rocinante Cinematic Universe) [2]
Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Angst, F/M, Found Family, Gen, James Holden has TWO hands, Self-Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellapendragon/pseuds/bellapendragon
Summary: James Holden learns one thing early on, growing up in a commune: he belongs to everyone.
Relationships: Amos Burton & Jim Holden, Jim Holden & Alex Kamal, Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata
Series: RCU (Rocinante Cinematic Universe) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739731
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	The light is no mystery

**Author's Note:**

> Jim... Jimothy....Jimmy boy.... he makes me sad :( I love him & just wanted to write about how sad he makes me... no other point to this lol. The crew of the Rocinante is in DEEP LOVE with each other and invented found families. I will die on this hill.
> 
> Because I'm a basic bitch the title is obviously from "Visible World" by Richard Siken, specifically: "The light is no mystery, the mystery is that there is something to keep the light from passing through."

James Holden learns one thing early on, growing up in a commune: he belongs to everyone.

It’s not an intentional message, or even a malicious one. Between his eight parents, Jim is constantly, fully, almost unbearably loved. He learns to milk cows under Mother Tamara’s glowing praise, harvests eggs for a doting Father Tom, weeds rows of land with Father Anton fondly loosening the soil ahead of him, and falls asleep to a bedtime story from Mother Elise every night. He never doubts that he is the heart and soul of the family.

But he hears things, too. The adults speaking in hushed tones about the government demanding a DNA sample to prove their parentage. Father Joseph complaining about his aching limbs and Mother Sophie responding that Jimmy would take over things soon enough. The kids at school calling him “tax break baby” behind his back. The murmurs of worry when he expresses interest in traveling after graduation.

So, he runs. Assuages his guilt by enlisting and spends seven years loitering in mediocrity. He probably would have stayed in the navy longer if he hadn’t violently defended a Belter ship from fire, but he and his broken hand transition easily enough to an ice-trawling career. It’s a somewhat repetitive existence that keeps him far from any real responsibility, which suits him just fine. Then he’s offered the Executive Officer position, ends up logging the _Scopuli_ distress call against orders, and spends his last night on the _Canterbury_ thinking about how responsibility tends to sneak up on him anyways.

\---

The first time he meets Naomi Nagata, he’s too distracted by Amos Burton to register any kind of first impression. He’s walking into the engineering corridor that they’re walking out of, apparently examining the roof bolting while not paying any goddamn attention to where they’re going. In a split second, Amos notices him and pulls Naomi back, smacking headfirst into Jim himself instead. The impact spasms all the way to Jim’s broken hand, which annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey, mind watching your step? People are trying to walk around here.”

Naomi opens her mouth to respond, looking apologetic, when Amos cuts her off, neatly stepping in front of her.

“You seem to be walking just fine, unless you’d like me to change that for you.”

Jim raises his eyebrows.

“Look pal, I don’t know who you are, but-”

“I’m not your pal.”

He hates this guy.

“Let’s keep it that way, then.”

Amos is clearly about to respond when a voice interrupts them.

_“Amos.”_

She pushes her away past Amos’ massive frame.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s our first day on the engineering crew, and we’re just trying to get our bearings. I’m Naomi Nagata. This is Amos Burton. And you?”

She holds her hand out, and he takes it reluctantly. He’s still got his eye on Amos’ impassive face.

“James Holden. Second officer of the _Canterbury_.”

Her eyes widen in surprise for a second before she drops his hand.

“Wow, I haven’t met any of the commanding officers yet. We just boarded last night, reporting directly to the engineering team. I’d love to hear more about your-”

“Yeah, we all would, but Naomi, we have to get those toolkits from supply corridor F,” Amos cuts in, looking bored.

“Right. Next time, then.”

“Next time,” he agrees, his annoyance increasing by the second.

“Can’t wait for it,” Amos drawls over his shoulder as they walk away.

Dick.

\---

The first time he meets Alex Kamal, he’s confused by the Texan accent. He’s never met anyone from Mariner Valley, so he takes Alex’s word for it when he tells him it’s a common occurrence there. It’s kind of comforting, in a way; a connection to Earth in the form of a man who’d never been there.

McDowell, standing next to him, asks if Alex has any family back on Mars. Jim personally thinks this is a tasteless question; he certainly doesn’t talk about his family, and really, who signs up to live for months on an ice trawler if they have a great home life? When Alex falls silent at the question, Jim changes the topic by asking McDowell to introduce him to the other new hires. Alex shoots him a grateful look as they leave, and Jim is glad to have found someone else who knows about running away from responsibility.

\---

The first time he meets Shed Garvey, he offers Jim the last of his stock of actual, Earth-grown marijuana. Jim passes, but regrets it when he finds himself on his fourth consecutive night of no sleep.

\---

The debris of the demolished _Canterbury_ is piercing the hull of the _Knight_ and he is frozen for just a moment in the realization that once again, he owes his life to a group of people. That he will never be free of this debt.

\---

If he’d had his choice, he wouldn’t have picked this crew. He learns within the first six hours of trying to repair the _Knight_ that Naomi is bossy, Amos is trigger-happy, Alex is unnervingly optimistic, and Shed is not a medic. But the ghost of the _Canterbury_ hangs over him. The blood of its crew stains his hands, and he knows he will go to his grave protecting these four. That his life is the least he can lay on his line for them. As the _Donnager_ approaches, the old fiery recklessness that he associates with dirt bike racing and jumping from crumbling farmhouse roofs overtakes him. When he broadcasts his face to the whole world and blames Mars for the destruction of the _Cant_ , his only hope is that it saves this weird group of misfits.

It doesn’t. Or rather, it almost does, but there’s a vacant space where Shed’s head should be, and another name is added to his bloody ledger. He barely has time to register this aboard their stolen escape shuttle when the _Donnager_ explodes behind them, stealth shuttles ripping through it just as they tore through the _Canterbury._ He tries, amidst the vertigo overtaking him, to tally up the numbers now weighing on his soul. Lists all the names he can remember, and passes out when he loses count.

When he regains consciousness, Lieutenant Kelly is dead in the seat next to him. He is too numb to process it, but feels a sharp sense of relief to see that Naomi is bandaging up a very much alive Amos with Alex’s help. Three survivors. He can do this. He can protect them. He can forfeit his life for theirs.

He proposes the name _Rocinante_ for the ship. The noble steed of a delusional man on a mission to serve his people.

\---

If he thought he had trouble sleeping on the _Canterbury_ , this is a whole new level. He lies awake in the dark every night, trying to list all the names of the dead. _Lieutenant Kelly. Lieutenant Lopez. Captain Theresa Yao. Shed Garvey. Captain McDowell. Rebecca Byers. Kamala Trask. Cameron Paj. Valka. Ade Tukunbo._

When the physical ache in his chest makes it hard to breathe (typically about when he gets to Ade’s name), he gets up and walks around the corridors aimlessly. Usually finds his way into the kitchen to make coffee. It never gets old, the novelty of having real coffee beans again.

He assumes that his nighttime wanderings are unnoticed by the others, but goes out one night to find coffee already brewing. There’s a sleeping tablet by the cups that he assumes comes from the infirmary stock. He doesn’t use the tablet (the nightmares are worse than the sleeplessness), but pockets it anyway. Upon investigation, he discovers the rest of the crew sitting on the command deck. Naomi and Amos are arguing over which features of the _Roci_ are most pretentious, while Alex rolls his eyes and defends the ship with the vengeance of a parent protecting a newborn.

When Naomi sees him approach, she smiles. It occurs to him, absently, that she has a truly beautiful smile.

“Hoss! Please take my side in this grudge match these two have against our girl!” Alex complains.

Amos doesn’t look up, but asks anyway: “You good, Cap?”

For the first time in a long time, Jim smiles too.

\---

The first time he kisses Naomi Nagata, they kiss like it’s the end of the world. It’s been a long time since Ade, and even longer since someone responded with this much passion, this much heat thrumming between them. When he moves inside her, she matches his every thrust with a moan of her own, grips his hair in her fist, directs his lips to the slender curve of her neck. They finish within seconds of each other and stand panting, touching foreheads. The warmth of their bodies, contrasted with the dark chill of space right beside them, brings goosebumps to his skin. She follows him to his cabin later, initiates round two with just as much energy, and this, he thinks, he could get used to.

Later, he lays his head on her chest and listens to her heart beat. She runs her fingers through his hair and starts talking about supplies she wants to buy at their next stop. He smiles and places a soft kiss on her chest, right above her heart.

\---

The first time he hugs Amos Burton, he startles the both of them. He’s responding to a message from Mother Elise, informative enough to keep her from worrying but elusive enough that nobody could trace it back to them. Suddenly weary, he shuts off the comm and sits with his elbow propped on the armrest, face buried in his hand.

“That your mom?”

The voice startles him. He didn’t know Amos was up here.

He turns the chair and drags his hand over his face, slow to respond.

“One of them. I have three mothers.”

Amos raises an eyebrow.

“Five fathers, too. It’s a real Brady Bunch situation.”

“Never watched that show. Think I get the reference, though. That’s a lot of parents. You stay in touch with them?”

He doesn’t know why he answers as honestly as he does, but it may have something to do with the fact that he hasn’t slept in so fucking long, even with Naomi sharing the bunk.

“I try to. It’s hard. They wanted me to stay with them and run the farm, and I wanted…not that.”

He raises his arms and smiles humorlessly.

“So, I’m out here in the great expanse instead, killing people left and right and worrying my family to death.”

He drops his arms and sighs. Amos frowns in confusion.

“Who have you killed? How come you didn’t let me kill them for you instead?”

This elicits a dry laugh.

“Not directly, just. The _Canterbury._ Everyone on the _Donnager._ Shed. Kelly. So many people dead because of choices I made.”

Amos sits down in front of him, leans on his knees and stares at him earnestly.

“Look, I know we gave you a hard time when we found out that you logged that distress call, but you didn’t pull the trigger on anyone. You didn’t blow up either of those ships, and you definitely didn’t blow that hole in Shed or crush Kelly’s bones in that suit. Feel like I would remember if you’d done that stuff. And Naomi? Naomi’s good people. She’d never follow you if you were a bad person.”

“I know. But I put you all in this position. I made it possible for all those people to die.”

“Well shit, I didn’t know you were the white-hot center of the universe, Cap!”

Jim rolls his eyes.

“Your girlfriend logged that distress call in the first place. You were following up on that. You gonna start blaming her for all this shit, too? Shit happens. Not worth thinking you’re important enough to be responsible for everyone else’s lives and choices, too. There’s enough going on without all that.”

It’s more or less the same thing Naomi has said to him before, but for the first time, he finds himself with no retort. Amos nods and gets up. Reaches a hand out to Jim.

“Now, come on. Alex said he made some weird-ass lasagna and I’m dying to try it.”

He takes the hand and stands up. As they head to the stairs, Amos turns around one last time.

“Oh, and about your family? I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re looking at the master of disappointing people. You’re leagues better, by my estimate.”

Something hard lodges in Jim’s throat at this. He doesn’t even realize that he’s pulling Amos into a hug until he does. Eventually, reluctantly, Amos returns the hug, briefly squeezing tight before letting go.

When they pull apart, Amos looks a little wary.

“Do me a favor, Cap? Don’t start hugging me every time I compliment you. We’ll never get anything done.”

At this, Jim laughs in earnest, head thrown back.

“Yeah, no promises. I come from a hugging family.”

\---

The first time he falls asleep next to Alex Kamal, he wakes up to the smell of coffee.

He has no memory of falling asleep, just sitting down at the kitchen table while Alex reads something on his comms. It’s an odd hour where he has nothing to do and nothing he feels like doing. His mind feels… itchy somehow, the world a little jagged on the edges.

Alex looks up at him when he sits down, does a double-take.

“Uh, how you doing there, Hoss?”

This confuses him.

“Me? I’m… fine?”

“It’s just uh, if you don’t mind me saying, you look a little worse for the wear there. When’s the last time you slept?”

Huh. He honestly can’t remember.

“I sleep enough. It’s not a problem.”

When Alex continues to look concerned, Jim sighs.

“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the _Canterbury_. It’s not a big deal. I’m managing.”

“Hoss, I understand that, but you go on like this for much longer, we’ll have to put you in a medical coma to knock you out.”

Jim shrugs.

“You know, my little boy used to have trouble sleeping after a rogue Belter shuttle crashed into Mariner Valley a few years back. Nothing worked, teas, lullabies, not even sleeping meds. Then we found out that trying a different environment helped. Got him out of the mindset that he was trying to sleep, so his mind didn’t fight the idea so much.”

He frowns. “A different environment?”

“He started sleeping on the couch in the common room, or even at our dining table. It wasn’t great, but it got him sleeping for a little bit, and eventually we transitioned him back into the bedroom.”

“I don’t know Alex, those flight chairs aren’t really the comfiest things in the world.”

“Honestly Hoss… try putting your head down right here. I’ll be quiet, won’t make a peep. Just give it a try.”

Jim wants to protest, but his head does feel fuzzy and he really doesn’t have anything better to do right now. So, he puts his head down, feeling ridiculous. He’s about to put it right back up and argue that it won’t work, when Alex starts tutting under his breath about something on the comms. He closes his eyes and starts counting the tuts. One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three, four. Pause. One, two. Pause. One, two. Pause.

The next thing he knows, he is waking up to the sound of the coffee maker going. He stretches and groans out loud at the major crick in his neck. A blanket falls off of his shoulders.

“Hey there, Hoss!” Alex greets, cheerfully. “Been asleep for five hours! I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’ve got Fred Johnson on the comms with a new message. Figured I’d wake you up to some coffee. How you feeling?”

Every bone in his body aches, and his head is full of cotton. He can’t remember the last time he was this sore or tired. Alex appears to sense this.

“Yeah, that’ll happen when you finally sleep after not resting for a long time. Tell you what, go talk to Fred for a minute and go right back to sleep, okay? Even here, if you want. I’ll go grab you a pillow.”

Jim yawns and smiles.

“I’ll be okay, but thanks, Alex. I needed this.”

To his surprise, he finds himself collapsing in his bunk after his brief conversation with Fred. For the first time in weeks, he sleeps through the night without dreaming. When he wakes up, stiff-jointed in the morning, Naomi is lightly snoring next to him, head pillowed on his shoulder.

Later in the kitchen, Alex is waiting again with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

\---

When Miller starts speaking to him, Jim’s first thought is that death has finally come to claim the life debt that he’s owed for so long. His second thought is that he’s lost his entire mind. His third thought is a variation of the first one.

He knows the others are concerned for him, don’t understand why the protomolecule is communicating with him of all people. He doesn’t fully understand it either. But it feels like a chance at redemption. Like confirmation, after all these years, that his life is meant to be sacrificed, to act as collateral damage in the race to save his people. Save all the people. So what if he’s a vessel for crotchety old Miller’s protomolecule-fueled agenda? If it stops the world from collapsing, he’s all for it. He can’t quite explain this to the crew without having them lock him up, so he tells them a variation of it: he and Miller had spent the most time together of them all, so naturally he would reach out to Jim first. Plus, Miller had been right about everything so far. Why stop listening to him now?

He quickly learns that _Ilus_ is why not.

It feels oddly like betrayal when Miller’s instructions turn Ilus into an apocalyptic nightmare planet. A ridiculous feeling, since he’s known all along that Miller isn’t _Miller_ , and even the real Miller had always had suspect motives. Still, when the tsunami hits and he finds himself hanging for dear life on the edge of the closing door, he yells a quick _FUCK YOU_ towards the guy. Here he is again, on the precipice of a potential disaster, with only himself to blame.

He’s herding Belters to a secure part of the ruins when Amos grabs his arm and pulls him aside.

“Look, I know we’re busy, but I also know you. Don’t stick your head up your ass right now, Cap. This isn’t your fault.”

It always surprises Jim, all these years later, how Amos has the ability to see right through him with one look. They really don’t have time for this conversation, but he finds himself responding anyways, most earnestly than he means to.

“I didn’t have to listen to Miller. I turned this planet into a death machine.”

Amos looks grim.

“It always gets me, Cap, how much of an ego you have for someone who hates himself so much. You couldn’t have resisted that protomolecule shit if you tried. It strategized. It knew how to make you agree. This isn’t on you. Any of us could have done the same. Now get over yourself and get these people to dry ground.”

He smiles ever so slightly. Puts a hand on Jim’s right cheek.

“We’re gonna see this through.”

Jim closes his eyes, briefly. Thinks how lucky he is to have Amos by his side, centering him like he always does. Opens them again and says softly, again: “I can’t do this without you.”

Amos nods and looks at him with those wide, piercing eyes.

“You won’t have to.”

\---

Jim hates it when the crew is split up. First on Eros, then in the ring, now Ilus. The blood in his ledger keeps stacking with every trip they take; now the entirety of Eros is included, and the list of fatalities he can’t prevent is so long he couldn’t recite it if he tried. (He still tries, late at night. When nobody is around, he recounts it to Miller, who is as supremely unhelpful as ever.) But his anxiety peaks when the four of them are separated, fear rising in his throat at the idea that any one of them could be added to the list.

It reminds him of something Father Anton told him after Jim had fallen from their shed roof and nearly broken his neck. While the others fussed over his sprained wrist and ankle, Father Anton had pulled him into his lap and wiped away his tears. They weren’t mad, he had explained, just scared. He had explained to a young Jim that the eight of them felt like a golden thread connected him to their hearts. That wherever he went, they felt him tugging on their heartstrings, reminding them of him. Now, with the very visceral ache of separation tugging at him with Naomi and Alex off-planet, he understands this sentiment more than ever.

He’s glad, of course, that the two of them aren’t part of the never-ending story of Ilus trying to murder them every second. But the _Rocinante_ was clearly facing its own challenges in space, and even though he has his hands full with earthquakes, floods, eye-eating bacteria, flesh-eating slugs, and murderous United Nations officials, there’s a constant pit in his stomach that doesn’t disappear until the four of them are united again on the _Roci._

It’s a good night when they do reunite, even with Murtry festering in lock-up. There’s an air of celebration when they break out of Ilus’ orbit and set their trajectory to the ring. Naomi is sitting in his lap and gesticulating wildly while telling him about her and Alex’s adventures in securing a rope tether mid-orbit. She accidentally smacks him in the face while demonstrating the fragility of the cable and Jim is so in love, he could die from it. His face hurts from smiling when Alex brings out some soy-based, coffee-themed dessert. When Amos finally shows up, he’s bloody-knuckled, a bruise forming on his grinning face. He can only imagine what Murtry must look like, and can’t think to do anything but give Amos an approving nod. He’d waited long enough.

He and Naomi double over in laughter as Amos pounces on Alex to give him a noogie, Alex’s groaning protests ignored. Alex retaliates by pouring his water on Amos, which backfires on all of them when Amos shakes it off like a wet dog, sending droplets everywhere. Sitting in the (now slightly damp) glow of happiness, he feels the endless chasm of guilt start to ebb away, the sting of self-loathing start to dull, just a little. Absently, he thinks that if he’d had his choice, he couldn’t have picked a better crew to belong to. When he tells them as much, he is mocked relentlessly for the rest of the night.


End file.
